Mistress Below Deck. Helen Dickson

head. What was he doing here skulking on the high ground when he had work to do?

      He stood for a moment then, making a decision which even then he was not sure was right, mounted his horse and rode back in the direction of Falmouth.

      When Matthew Golding received an offer of marriage for Rowena from Lord Tregowan, it came in the form of a letter with a red wax seal, brief and to the point. It was brought by Mr Daniel Hathaway, Lord Tregowan’s solicitor in Falmouth, a man who was well known to Matthew. If Matthew agreed to the proposal, Lord Tregowan would call and see him in due course when everything would be put in order, and he would not be ungenerous.

      Rowena turned the letter over in disbelief. ‘What? Is that all?’ she murmured incredulously. ‘Lord Tregowan must be very sure of himself to write in such terms. But who is he really? How old? What does he look like? What kind of man is he?’

      Matthew was excited, unable to believe their good fortune. ‘Lord Tregowan? He must be back from foreign parts. It’s not every day a lord is admitted into the family. Think of it, Rowena. You could be mistress of Tregowan Hall—Lady Tregowan.’ He preened in his chair, his eyes alight with pleasure at this unexpected good fortune. ‘Very grand. Annie was only saying the other day that there’s been some activity at the house of late and masons have been called in to repair the part that was affected by the fire.’ He looked expectantly at his daughter. ‘What do you say, Rowena? Will you agree to his proposal?’

      Casting all melancholy thoughts aside, Rowena desperately tried to sort out in her mind what the best course of action would be to take. She had reached a crossroads, but with only one route to take, a route on which she was being forced. Tobias Searle was going to crucify her father, and it was up to her to see that he didn’t; to do that, rather than be tricked or trapped into an alliance with Mr Searle—such was her attraction to him—she would willingly throw in her lot with this man she had never met.

      Rowena stiffened her spine, her eyes hard and resolute. ‘Yes, Father, I will marry Lord Tregowan, and the sooner the better.’

      While a handsome, dark-skinned man dived into the water from the Cymbeline and swam in the rippling deep waters of Falmouth harbour, Rowena was on the busy quay to see Jane off on her journey to St Mary’s, the largest of the Scilly Isles, to visit their Aunt Sarah.

      Jane wouldn’t be gone for more than a month, but Rowena was going to miss her dreadfully. She was to travel with Mrs Garston, a respectable lady who lived not far from them. She was a Scillonian, whose family had been fishermen for generations and still lived there.

      ‘You look very serious this morning, Rowena.’ Jane gave her sister a worried look, observing that her eyes lacked their customary lustre. ‘I do hope you’re not feeling the effects of my leaving. It won’t be for long and before you know it I’ll be back.’

      Rowena was feeling despondent. ‘I know. I only hope you don’t encounter any of those wretched pirates who constantly prey on honest sailors, kidnap them and carry them off to goodness knows where.’

      ‘You mustn’t worry. It’s a route the captain regularly takes and I’m sure the Petrel is well armed. And don’t you go marrying Lord Tregowan until I get back, will you? Aunt Sarah will soon be feeling better and when she is I’ll come home immediately.’

      ‘Make sure you do. I’m going to miss you, Jane, and as for me marrying Lord Tregowan, it will be a solution to all our problems.’

      ‘It saddens me that you are having to do this, Rowena.’

      ‘Don’t be. Everything will be all right.’

      ‘But changed. You don’t have to marry him. You don’t have to marry anybody you don’t want to, and you mustn’t let Father bully you into it.’

      ‘I’m not, but Lord Tregowan’s proposal is generous—and it is one way of getting rid of the odious Mr Searle and his wretched debt.’ She gave her sister an encouraging smile. ‘Now you’d better get on the ship, Jane, otherwise it will leave without you. Mrs Garston is already on board. I hope you have a good journey and that you come home safe.’

      Jane was an emotional young woman. She enfolded Rowena in a tight hug and there were tears in both their eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m a good sailor, you know that.’

      ‘Of course you are. Give Aunt Sarah my love.’ Releasing her sister, she stood back and watched her walk across the gangplank and on to the vessel that was to carry her away from Falmouth.

      He appeared suddenly, seeming to come from nowhere. His dappled grey horse tossed its fine, noble head and pranced to a halt in front of her as she rode the high ground the day following Jane’s departure—and, out of curiosity, to take an edifying look at Tregowan Hall from afar.

      Her mare shied to a halt and reared, pawing the air before landing with a thud and whinnying loudly. For a moment, stunned by her horse’s reaction and bringing it expertly under control, Rowena could only stare at the man in front of her, unprepared for the sudden lurch her heart gave at the sight of the handsome Tobias Searle.

      He looked quite splendid in his well-cut clothes, his shirt front snowy and his cloak thrown back over his wide shoulders in a dashing way, his teeth startling against his brown skin. Then, gathering her wits, the memory of what she was being forced to do because of him made her go hot, then cold, with anger and she glared at this incursion of her freedom.

      Tobias admired the way she handled her horse—a sleek, graceful, spirited, dangerous beast when crossed—very little difference, it seemed, between the horse and its mistress. Leisurely, his gaze wandered over the lovely face that was frowning with indignation. A faint smile of appreciation twisted the corner of his mouth.

      ‘Oh, it’s you! I might have known,’ she retorted irately into the mocking blue eyes that gazed back at her.

      ‘Aye, Rowena, it’s Tobias Searle at your service,’ he murmured with a slight incline of his head, sweeping his hat from his head in gallant haste, revealing his thick dark hair, which gleamed beneath the sun’s rays.

      ‘Do you have to keep bothering me?’

      One eyebrow crawled up his forehead and his smile was almost lecherous. ‘So I bother you, do I, Rowena?’

      ‘Like a wasp. Do you wish to speak to me, Mr Searle?’ she asked haughtily, her manner implying that, if not, he could take himself off and look sharp about it.

      ‘I was merely riding my horse when I came upon you by surprise. Now we have met, there is no reason why we can’t be congenial to each other and converse on a matter that will not give offence to either of us.’

      ‘And what do you suggest? That we should discuss the weather, perhaps, or the latest gossip in Falmouth?’ she retorted, her lips twisting with sarcasm. ‘I cannot think that you and I have common interests, Mr Searle.’

      ‘I find you to be a more interesting topic, Rowena. Once again I find you courting danger. This track is not meant to be ridden at breakneck speed by a horse controlled by a foolish woman.’

      Rowena’s face tightened and she gave him a frigid stare. ‘For your information, I have ridden it many times—so many times, in fact, that I could ride it blindfold. I value my freedom, Mr Searle—the freedom to do as I please—a desire which is sufficiently met up here on the high ground.’

      ‘Be that as it may, but you should have more concern for your own safety. Have you no sense at all?’

      ‘Apparently not, and as I have told you before, it is no concern of yours—and I cannot for the life of me think why you make it so. Nor can I imagine what you are doing hanging about up here, unless it is to waylay unsuspecting females. I am neither fragile nor defenceless,’ she told him sharply.

      ‘Is there a reason that brings you up here today?’

      ‘You have a nerve, Mr Searle,’ she snapped, casting an indignant glare at him. ‘What I do—’

      He